


what a life is for

by walkthegale



Category: The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/F, Femslash, Ficlet, First Kiss, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand seeing you cry.”
Relationships: Millie Harcourt/Jean McBrian
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	what a life is for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).



> Written for a tumblr prompt: https://walkthegale.tumblr.com/post/627250752608518144/4-for-milliejean

“Please don’t cry. I can’t stand seeing you cry.” Millie pulls an embroidered handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at Jean’s face before Jean can object.

“I’m not… I wasn’t…” Jean takes a deep breath, letting the fresh ocean air clear her thoughts. She draws herself up straight, and blinks back any further tears before a single one dares so much as think of escaping.

Somewhere behind her, she can hear all the sounds of a ship in dock, cargo being loaded and passengers boarding. Jean’s ticket is burning a hole in her jacket pocket, and she knows she has to turn around. She has to go now. Millie’s eyes are wide and her mouth is pinched and Jean can tell precisely how hard she’s working to hold herself together, and she can’t yet bring herself to look away.

“I hope the food’s better than it was on the way here.” Jean forces a laugh, but it sounds hollow even to her own ears. “Remember that dreadful stew?”

Jean sees the shift in Millie’s expression at the exact moment Millie’s resolve breaks. Millie reaches out and clutches Jean’s hand, and her fingers are cold around Jean’s own.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” she says, her voice breaking in the middle.

Jean looks up at the sky behind Millie’s head. “Don’t do this to me again, Millie. Not now.”

There’s a long silence between them, and where a moment ago Jean couldn’t stop watching Millie’s face, she now finds she can’t meet her eyes. She knows that this is the moment where she should step back, pull her hand away, and say farewell. Tell Millie she promises to write regularly, and then wave to her from her deck of the ship until she fades out of sight, just one dot among many, left alone on the San Francisco shoreline.

She can suddenly see, as clear as anything, herself that night, lying in a narrow bed in a cabin shared with strangers, being carried slowly but inexorably towards London. Slowly but inexorably away from Millie, and from their flat, and their new friends, and from a brand new life that she won’t be there to build.

“I’ll miss you.” Millie’s voice is so quiet Jean almost isn’t sure she heard her at all.

“I’ll miss you too, dear.” Jean knows her reply is flat, emotionless. Something polite that she might say to any friendly acquaintance on parting. She would, if she gave herself room to think about it, be impressed by how little it betrays her.

“Oh, _Jean_!”

Jean realises that Millie is the one crying in earnest now. She’s still holding her hand like a lifeline. Jean still can’t step away.

And then Jean’s body moves without her say so - standing her up on her tiptoes to press a final kiss to Millie’s cheek, but Millie leans down towards her at the same moment and she ends up catching the very corner of Millie’s mouth by accident. She can taste the salt of her tears. She feels heat flare in her cheeks and makes to pull away, but Millie’s free hand is on her waist, holding her steady.

“Millie…” she says, half a whisper, Millie’s face still disconcertingly close to her own.

“For goodness’ sake, Jean,” Millie says. “I shan’t have another chance to say it. Don’t you understand? I love you.”

And with a flood of warmth, right through the centre of her chest and down to the very ends of her fingers and toes, Jean understands. She understands the mistake she was about to make, and she understands, with a blinding, brilliant clarity, how to be brave enough not to make it. She isn’t sure, suddenly, how she couldn’t see it before.

When she kisses Millie, deliberately this time, full on the lips, she feels Millie freeze for a moment, and then her mouth softens under Jean’s. The kiss is deep and searing, and a little awkward as they adjust to each other, but lovely nonetheless. When it ends, it takes Jean a moment to catch her breath. Anyone at all might have seen them, and Jean can’t find it in herself to care.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” Millie is squeezing Jean’s hand so tightly it hurts, and her voice is throaty and thick with tears.

Jean smiles at her, her heart galloping in her chest. She has never been one to make a hurried decision, but she has also never been quite as sure of any choice she's made in her life as she is of this one. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And right there, at the beginning of something terrifying and wonderful and new, she kisses Millie again.


End file.
